


Illusions of Normality

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, No Superpowers AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hardest thing to maintain is a normal life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

James Barnes was finding it hard to remember how to be a normal person. He had what could be considered a “normal people job” now, working as an instructor at the local gym, but he still didn't quite feel all there. He was half convinced he had left a part of his mind overseas during the war, and it had stayed there.

He had tried teaching group self-defense classes at first, but that hadn't worked out so well. He wasn't exactly what anyone would call charismatic anymore, and there were always too many people in the room for his liking. Ever since coming back, crowds had made him nervous, and it certainly didn't help when one of them inevitably stared at his prosthetic arm.

James' coworker and friend Pietro had suggested he take on private clients instead. That made him nervous for different reasons – James felt like he was just as bad at one-on-one things as group things, but he figured he had to try. He had to be good at _something_ here, otherwise he wouldn't bring home a paycheck. He was waiting for his first client now, more than a little nervous. _You can get through this. It's only an hour._ He secretly hoped his client wouldn't like him, and wouldn't come back a second time.

Before he had time to think about it more, his client came through the door, greeting him with a hesitant little wave and a half-smile. James was more than a little distracted by how gorgeous she was, captivated by her red hair. It fell in curls down to her shoulders, and as he watched, she slipped it into a loose ponytail. He realized his own hair was down, and since he didn't want to look unprofessional and messy, he put his hair back too, tucking it away in a messy bun. He had never been good at hair things, but he didn't want to look like he'd be careless enough to let his hair fall in his face while teaching an exercise class.

“You're Mr. Barnes, right? My name's Natasha.” The woman offered a hand to shake, and James took it with his prosthetic arm by instinct. He cringed inwardly, hoping it wouldn't freak her out, but the woman didn't seem to be fazed.

“Yes, I am.” James scratched his head briefly, a little embarrassed at the formal name. “Please, call me James. I'm not quite on the level of an academic teacher.” He laughed a little, not quite able to look her in the eye yet.

“James it is, then.” Natasha gave him a smile, and that made him flounder a little before speaking. God, this was going to be a disaster.

“This is my first time with a private client, so we're both newbies here,” James said, hoping to make her less nervous. If she _was_ nervous. She seemed to be completely calm and collected, and he was the one who felt like a nervous wreck.

“Well, I wouldn't say I'm a newbie.” Natasha shrugged a little. “I've been in more than a few scuffles in my lifetime. I just figured I should learn to do it properly. Good form and all that.” James' eyebrows raised slightly, surprised that she had been in so many fights, but he figured he could never really be sure about anyone's past.

“Glad you're willing to learn how to fight properly, then. You can get seriously injured without proper form,” James said, hoping he hadn't offended her by calling her a newbie. He knew he was probably overthinking everything because she was incredibly pretty, so he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He walked onto the sparring mat, bracing himself. “I want you to show me what you can do, so I can get a good sense of your skills. Come at me with all you've got.”

Natasha nodded, and it was only a second later that she was flying at him, sending a kick straight at his chest. He had another whole second to notice that her form was fairly sloppy, but the thought got catapulted out of his head as soon as her foot collided with his chest, sending him stumbling back a few feet. She was a lot stronger than he had been prepared for, but he supposed that was a good thing. He could show her more challenging moves that way.

“You really pack a - “ James began, but then her fist was flying at him, and he barely managed to put his arms up in time, blocking the blow. “ - _punch_.” Natasha bounced backward on the balls of her feet, watching James for his reaction. The wind was still knocked out of him a little from her kick, but he tried not to let it show. She had as much physical force as anyone he had met in the army, and he swore normal people didn't usually have that.

“You have a lot of power, but your form could definitely use some work. You could really mess up your joints that way,” James said, walking over to Natasha. “There are multiple kinds of punches, too. You just looked like you were improvising. Am I correct?” Natasha nodded, watching him, and James tried not to get too flustered, because her eyes were a beautiful deep shade of green.

He showed her all the different kinds of punches, demonstrating with his arm, and then having her practice by herself. She still was having a little trouble getting the hang of it, though, and he reached toward her, wanting to assist her further.

“May I?” He reached his hand toward her arm, wanting to guide her.

“Go right ahead.” Natasha nodded, and James set his hand gently on hers, feeling something in his heart jolt a little when he touched her. He moved their arms together in a punch with proper form, trying to concentrate on the lesson, instead of the fact that her skin felt warm and soft under his rough, calloused hand. They practiced like that a few times, and then James reluctantly let go of her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. His face was a little red, and he thought he saw a tinge of the same color on Natasha's cheeks, but maybe it was light reflected from her hair.

“Now try again, without me,” James said. She hadn't needed him to say that, but James had suddenly felt the need to break the tension floating in the air, which had been only growing in their silence. The tension lessened a little, but he still couldn't get the feel of her touch out of his head. He watched as Natasha punched the air, this time with much better form than before. He smiled faintly despite himself, pleased that he had actually managed to teach something successfully.

“That's definitely an improvement. Good job.” Natasha's face lit up at the praise, and she gave him a warm smile in return, which made James feel a little wobbly. _Focus, soldier. That's unprofessional._

They practiced their punches a little more together, although James didn't ask to touch Natasha again. He had them spar for a while instead, using only their fists. About half an hour through, James had them stop for a break, intending on teaching her how to kick properly next.

“You're really picking up on this quickly,” James said, handing Natasha a water bottle. Natasha took it gratefully, sitting down on the bench for a moment.

“I have a good teacher.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving upward faintly for a moment. James wondered for a moment if she was flirting, but maybe she was just being nice. He couldn't figure out anything to say after that, so they sat in silence for five minutes as they rested. When the break was over, James gestured for Natasha to follow him upward into the ring again.

“We're done with punching for the day, so I'm going to teach you how to kick properly.” James demonstrated a front kick, side kick, back kick, and roundhouse kick for Natasha, and she kept her distance, watching him. He had a silly urge to show off for her, but he made himself stick to his plans for the lesson, squashing that part of his brain for now. He backed away and let Natasha try out the kicks he had shown her.

He winced when he saw her move, because the way she was kicking would undoubtedly throw out her knee if she did it too much. Fighting required restraint and poise just as much as power, but right now, Natasha just seemed to throw herself at her target, her personal safety be damned. Natasha saw the look on his face and looked a little embarrassed herself.

“All right, I know that was bad. Can you show me how to do that again, like you did with the punches?” Natasha asked. “I think I learn better when I have physical direction, instead of just watching.” _Oh, god._ Now she was the one who was asking him to touch her, and although he definitely wanted to do that again, he hoped he wouldn't be considered unprofessional. She had been the one to ask this time, though. It wasn't like he was asking repeatedly.

“All right,” he said finally, approaching Natasha. She lifted her leg for him to guide, and he placed his hands on her leg, trying his best to keep the touch professional. He wasn't sure if this was better than teaching a group class, because this was incredibly distracting, and he had never been captivated by a student before.

James eased her leg into a few proper kicks, keeping his touch gentle but firm, making sure to give resistance if her leg tried to deviate from proper form. He kept one hand under her knee and the other on her shin, not daring to put his hands any lower. It seemed like forever until she got used to the motions, and he let go of her leg, embarrassed by how breathless he felt. That tension was back in the air again, and he backed away, hoping that would lessen it a little.

“Show me by yourself, now.”

Natasha's eyes lingered on him for a little longer than James thought was normal, but then she turned to practice kicking, and he forced himself to look at her kicking form instead of her face. He told himself he was just overanalyzing every gesture, and that she was only here to learn how to fight. He was the one who couldn't get himself under control. Eventually, he grew distracted by the physicality of it, concentrating on her form rather than the woman in front of him. He smiled faintly when she started to get good at it, and he motioned for her to stop.

“That's a hell of a lot better,” James said, and his heart jumped a little at how pleased Natasha looked. He hoped like hell that none of this was showing on his face.

They sparred one last time before the class ended, using both punches and kicks this time. Natasha's kicks and punches weren't as forceful as they had been to start out with, and James wondered if she was being easy on him. That was silly, though – he was the teacher, and she was the student. She was probably just moving with better form now.

Finally, the spar ended, and Natasha moved to pick up her water bottle. James watched her without realizing what he was doing as she walked across the ring, and he shook himself mentally when he realized, embarrassed all over again. He went to get his own water, feeling like he needed a very cold shower.

“Thanks for all of that,” Natasha said, giving him that faint half-smile again. She looked up at the clock. “I should be going, though. Have to go home and feed the cat.” James nodded, finding the fact that she had a cat more than a little endearing.

“You'll be back next week, then?” James asked, not sure which answer he wanted to hear.

“Definitely.” Natasha gave him a little wave as she walked out of the room.

“See you next week.” James waved in return, but she already had her back turned. He still felt breathless, and he was pretty sure it wasn't from the fight.

_I think I'm about to make a huge mistake._


	2. Chapter 2

Even though it had been a few weeks, Yelena still felt strange waking up in a proper bed, especially a bed she actually owned. It also felt strange that the roof over her head was something that she had paid for herself, and not the roof of a shelter (or no roof at all). It had taken her a long time to get here, but she was glad she had finally made it.

The last shelter she had stayed at had helped her get a job at the local coffeeshop, and that was how she paid her bills these days. She lived in a tiny studio, and there was certainly nothing extravagant about her life, but it was a hell of a lot better than showering at the gym, barely eating, and sleeping wherever she could find somewhere undisturbed. The gym membership had been an impulse thing when her life had crashed around her without warning, but she had gotten it to have a place to shower, and it had been well worth it in the long run. She had picked up gymnastics there as a hobby, and it had turned into a passion. She felt like she owed the place something, and it was definitely the only place that ever came close to being called “home.”

Yelena wasn't nearly so fond of the coffeeshop, however.

It was a job, and she was grateful to have it, but she had never really been good with people, much less ornery customers. She had made a friend there, though, and that made it easier. His name was Steve, and like Yelena, he had an outside passion he pursued while working as a barista to pay the bills. He was an incredible artist, and sometimes he came to the gym while Yelena practiced her gymnastics, both to sketch athletes and visit with his friend, a self defense teacher named James. Yelena thought James was a complete and utter tool, but she didn't tell Steve that.

Yelena gave Steve a little wave as she entered the coffeeshop for her morning shift. She wasn't sure he noticed her, though – it was before opening hours, and the skinny blonde had perched himself on one of the bar stools, sketching away. She and Steve were usually in charge of opening the place, and it looked like he had been waiting for her to arrive.

“Hey, Picasso,” Yelena said, tapping Steve gently on the shoulder to get his attention. Steve looked up to see Yelena and smiled.

“Morning, Lena. I was just sketching a little since you hadn't gotten here yet,” Steve said, closing his sketchbook. It was insanely early in the morning, and although it didn't bother Yelena that much, since she was used to strange hours, Steve still looked pretty bleary. The two of them got up to start opening the shop, waiting for the onslaught of rush hour morning coffee customers.

Yelena busied herself tidying up the counter while Steve stood at the register, waiting for the first customers. The first few customers went by uneventfully, and Yelena recognized most of them, regulars who always came for their coffee before work. Then, someone she didn't recognize entered, a tall, dark-skinned man wearing a shirt with a bunch of different wild birds on it. Normally, Yelena wouldn't have paid all that much attention to a new customer, since they came in daily, but it was Steve's reaction that caught her eye.

Steve was usually pretty personable, and unless he was in a bad mood, he usually struck up some small talk between him and the customer while they waited for their coffee. When the man in the bird shirt came up to the register, however, all Steve managed was a “Hello, may I take your order?”

Yelena raised her eyebrows slightly, watching the two of them. That was definitely an “oh no, he's hot” moment if she had ever seen one. If Steve got interested in someone else again, she would be glad for him. He'd been having a hard time getting over his last girlfriend. They'd split amicably, but a whole bunch of circumstances had come up and prevented them from being together.

The stranger smiled when Steve gave him his coffee, and Steve nearly dropped it, the stranger thankfully making a nice save and catching it before it got too far.

“Thanks for the coffee,” the stranger squinted at Steve's nametag. “Steve.” He gave Steve a smile and moved to go sit down at one of the tables. Steve looked a little star struck, and Yelena had to elbow him a little to get him focused on the next customer.

When more workers showed up and one took over the register for Steve, Steve came to the back counters with Yelena, still looking a little frazzled. Yelena couldn't help the big smirk that formed on her face, now that she had a chance to talk to him.

“Please tell me you gave him your number or something. I think he was flirting with you,” Yelena said quietly, and Steve's face went beet red.

“I – I barely managed a hello, what makes you think I could have given him my number?”

“Well, I hope he really likes his coffee, because then he'll come back. Maybe you'll manage a few more words then.” Yelena elbowed him gently, grinning. “You should totally go for it, then.” She paused. “Unless the real reason you were so starstruck was the wild bird art on his shirt. I honestly wouldn't be surprised.”

Steve swatted at Yelena briefly, stifling a laugh. “I guess that's a testament to how distracting he was. I was noticing more how tight that shirt was, and I didn't pay attention to the art.” Yelena muffled a giggle, fixing the next coffee a customer had ordered.

“Don't laugh at me! I can't help being flustered,” Steve said.

“It's kind of adorable, though. Like a puppy. I'm not really the type of person to do that, though,” Yelena said. Her romantic past hadn't exactly been...nice. But even without all that, she still wasn't the type to get all giggly about someone. She hadn't really felt anything for anyone since Natasha, and she was wondering if what had transpired between them had fucked her up for good. But either way, watching someone else's budding romance was better than participating in her own. So she would be Steve's cheerleader, and hopefully something would come of this.

Steve raised his eyebrows at her comment, but then they were both swept up in a rush of customers, and the conversation was forgotten.

The workday seemed to go incredibly slowly after that, and finally, they reached the lunch hour. Yelena had taken a break for food during the late morning, so she was in charge of working the register during the actual lunch hour. The coffee shop sold sandwiches and soups as well as coffee, and a lot of people took their work lunches here.

Someone Yelena hadn't seen before approached the register, a woman with long, dark brown hair tied back in a braid. She wore a red cardigan and a black skirt, and Yelena was a little alarmed at how distracting she was. _She's just an attractive stranger. It means nothing. Calm down._

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Yelena asked. The woman looked a little tense, and Yelena wondered if she was one of the many corporate workaholics who brought their laptops to the coffee shop and didn't take an actual break. She seemed a little distracted, as if she was doing calculations or something in her head, and she didn't quite meet Yelena's eyes.

“I'll have a chai tea latte, a slice of sourdough bread, and a bowl of broccoli cheddar soup, please,” the woman said, and Yelena was surprised to hear an accent. Yelena had a bit of an accent herself, being from Ukraine originally, and it was nice to hear someone that sounded a little like her. Surprising herself, she gave the woman a friendly smile, ringing up her order. Normally, she wasn't so friendly with strangers like Steve.

“I'll have that for you in just a moment. I'll be right back,” Yelena said, turning around to go get the woman's food. She told herself that she was handling an attractive stranger much better than Steve, but she found that her movements were a little nervous as she gathered up the woman's food. On a whim, she took a small chocolate chip muffin from the display case and added it to the woman's food, making a mental note to pay for it herself later. She returned to the register, wondering if she was going to do something very stupid.

“Here you are,” Yelena said, and then lowered her voice, leaning toward the woman. “The muffin's on the house. Don't worry about it.”

The woman's eyes widened, and Yelena thought she saw a faint blush color her cheeks. After a moment, the woman's lips curved up in a faint smile, and she finally looked up to meet Yelena's eyes.

“Thank you, that's very sweet of you.” The woman paid and took her food, moving quickly to a table in the corner, as if she was a little embarrassed. Yelena stared after her without really thinking about it, watching as she took out her computer to work on her lunch break. An elbow in the side from Steve brought her back to herself, and she reddened, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“Pot, kettle.” Steve raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Oh, shut up.”

 


End file.
